


the exaltation over the party

by princesskay



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Episode Tag, Infidelity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Between the victory of arresting Dwight Taylor and the darkness of the next Kemper conversation, some kind of spoiled exaltation happens.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	the exaltation over the party

The distance between home and California seems to grow with every visit, every plane ticket, every police station, and every conversation staring down the blackness behind Kemper’s eyes. Bill can sense the miles stretching out behind him, unraveled thread that can never be sewn back together again. He can feel it in the tugging exhaustion of long hours and jet lag, but more than that, he can feel it in his chest. 

When he and Holden are on the road together, the rest of his life seems to fall away. He can lie to himself that what they do in the privacy of rented motel rooms is contained, a scene inside a snow globe, happening in a parallel world that doesn’t have consequences. It’s a dangerous brand of thinking, a nauseous anxiety that eats him alive when he’s sitting across the dinner table from Nancy - but when the California sun is hot on his shoulders, and Holden’s eyes are vibrant blue and gripping in the dim, hotel lamplight, he can’t remember what that coarse jolt of reality feels like. 

After the arrest of Dwight Taylor, the hazy euphoria heightens into the breathless stratosphere. Bill feels himself losing gravity as they drive back to the hotel from the police station. He had two beers; he isn’t drunk, but this weightless tick of need in his chest is a reckless twin to inebriation.

Holden rolls the window down, allowing the warm, summer breeze to bluster into the car. He utters a quiet sigh as he leans closer to the window, allowing the wind to tousle his hair. 

Bill cuts a glance across the car, and clamps his lips around his cigarette. The taste of smoke clouds against the stammering squeeze in his chest. He’s fucked and he knows it; he’d just rather not admit it yet, not until he has to, not until the collateral of his decisions erupts. 

When they reach the hotel, Bill throws the gearshift into park. The door of their motel room stares back at him from across the sidewalk. His throat is suddenly thick with the taste of beer and need. 

Holden takes off his seatbelt, and checks his watch. His other hand is on the door handle. 

“I should be beat, but I don’t feel tired.” He says, a suggestion hovering beneath the innocuous comment. 

Bill take the cigarette from his mouth, and expels a slow stream of smoke. His belly clenches at the thought of possibility that lies beyond the door of the motel room. 

“I feel like we should celebrate.” Holden adds. 

“We did.”

“Personally, I mean. This is a huge achievement for our work.” 

Bill shifts his gaze across the car, glimpsing the glint in Holden’s eyes through the dense shadows. “I need to call my wife. She expects it when I’m gone for more than a day.”

Holden nods, exhaling a sigh through his nostrils. “Okay.”

Bill grits his teeth as Holden shoves the door open and gets out of the car. Muttering a curse, he rips off his seatbelt, and shoulders his way out of the vehicle. He digs the motel key out of his pocket, and shuffles past Holden to unlock the door. 

“I’m going to get a quick shower.” Holden says. 

“Okay. Do me a favor, and leave some warm water.” Bill says. 

“I’ll be quick.”

Bill pushes the door shut, his fist lingering around the door knob as Holden sheds his suit jacket on his way to the bathroom. His gaze tracks across the room, the two double beds lined up with only a few feet of space between them. He can envision Holden’s bare skin against the pasty white sheets. 

Uttering a sigh, Bill crosses the room to his bed, and drops to the edge of the mattress. He strips down his underwear, and leans back against the pillows to light a new cigarette. He turns on the television. A news report is repeating the details of the Taylor arrest, all the grotesque parts of his crimes. The FBI isn’t mentioned. Shepherd must be happy. 

Bill glances at the telephone on the nightstand, then checks his watch. It’s pushing nine o’clock, and Nancy must be getting Brian ready for bed right now. He shouldn’t interrupt. 

The excuse seems good enough. Bill aimlessly watches the television until he hears the shower shut off. 

A few minutes later, the bathroom door creeps open. Holden shuffles into the room with a towel clutched around his waist. His skin is still speckled with beads of water that glaze in narrow rivers down his rosy, freshly scrubbed chest and belly. He pauses at the foot of the bed. 

Bill scowls at him. “Do you mind? You’re blocking the television.” 

“I thought you were going to call Nancy.” Holden says. His expression is placid, but Bill can glimpse the undercurrent of something fiercer underneath. 

“It’s Brian’s bedtime.” Bill says. 

Holden’s chin dips with a slight nod. “You’ll call her later?” 

“Yes.”

“How much later?”

Bill huffs a sigh past his nostrils, and shoves up from the pillows. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he braces his elbows against his knees and scrubs a hand over his forehead. 

“Is there something you want from me, Holden? Right this minute?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

Bill pauses, pressing his eyelids shut. The sound of the damp towel sliding free and dropping to the carpet interrupts the panicked train of his thoughts. Heat floods his chest and belly before he looks up, but when he glances past cracked eyelids to see Holden standing naked at the foot of the bed, the powerful fist of need wrenches hard between his legs. 

Bill’s hand drifts from his forehead to grip the edge of the mattress. 

Holden’s chest rises with a sharp breath. He has an erection, the thick, hard length of his cock twitching upright against his hip. The flesh is lively pink against his pale skin, drawing Bill’s gaze directly to it. 

“I know the last time you said we shouldn’t do this anymore.” Holden whispers, his voice shaking slightly. “But, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Bill’s jaw clenches against the wild bolt of need racing through his blood. His body flushes hot in waves that go directly to his groin where he can feel the tempo of arousal beginning to pulse towards an unbearable ache. 

He tears his eyes away, and focuses on stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray. The singed tip of the cigarette crumbles as he applies deliberate pressure. 

“I don’t think you can either.” Holden says. 

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” Bill says, structuring the reply into a defensive tone. 

He glances up sharply when Holden moves around the foot of the bed to approach him. His cock swings with every step, so fucking hard. Bill feels the breath leave his lungs, and he thinks he should get up, argue, protest; but Holden is already standing in front of him, his eyes afire, caution thrown to the wind. 

“Holden-” 

Bill’s faint protest cuts off when Holden straddles his lap, and clutches his jaw with one hand. 

“Today was a victory.” Holden murmurs, his thumb stroking Bill’s jawline. “We should take this moment for ourselves.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Bill mutters, his focus going hazy on the ripe swell of Holden’s lower lip. 

Holden’s tongue darts against his lip before his mouth purses in an affirming hum, “Mhm.”

Bill swallows hard as Holden’s fingers tighten around his jaw, dragging his mouth into a slow, panting kiss. His hands seem to move of their own accord, grasping onto Holden’s bare hips, climbing up his back, along the curve of his spine. He sinks his fingers into hair at Holden’s nape, pulling him closer while their mouths push back and forth in a hungry, nipping kiss. Holden’s tongue peeks out against the stroke of Bill’s lips, giving him a little, sweet taste and a jolt of heightening need. 

Bill drags his mouth free, and pants heavily against Holden’s cheek. “Fuck.”

Holden suppresses a groan, rocking his hips against Bill’s. “You’re so turned on. I can feel it. Admit it - you want this.”

Bill closes his eyes as heat washes his cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. Just hurry up.” Bill says. 

“I’m ready.” Holden says. 

Bill frowns up at him. “You are?”

“I got myself ready in the bathroom.” Holden whispers, “You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back.”

Bill nods, unable to muster a reply. His body hums with need, unmistakable, undeniable. He wants to stand up and curse at Holden.  _ Why the fuck do you make this so easy for me?  _ But, it is easy - so easy - and he’s already shifting them back against the pillows, grasping Holden’s hip with one hand to keep him seated on his lap. 

As Bill sinks back against the pillows, Holden’s hands creep between them to tug on his boxers. Bill lifts his hips, and the fabric comes away from his throbbing cock. He kicks them from his ankles, and grasps Holden’s hips.

Holden takes his cock in his hand, stroking and squeezing the pulsing flesh with a concentrated frown on his brow. 

Bill utters a needy sigh verging on a moan. “Fuck, Holden … feels good.” He mutters, closing his eyes against the rift of arousal that cuts like a hot knife through his middle. 

Holden bends down to drop a kiss on Bill’s mouth. “I’ve wanted this all day.”

Bill opens his eyes as Holden’s weight shifts on top of him, thighs clutching around his hips as he gets into position. His soft touch guides Bill’s cock up against his hole where the generous glaze of Vaseline coats the lax opening. 

The image of Holden crouched on the bathroom floor, fingering himself blazes across Bill’s mind. The erotic fantasy collides with the intense sensations of reality, leading a strangled moan up from his chest and past his lips. His hips cant upward against the slow pressure of Holden’s body coming down, and the slick opening takes the head of his cock with little resistance. 

“Jesus.” Bill gasps, fingers curling taut against Holden’s bare hips. 

Holden gasps quietly when the tip of Bill’s cock penetrates him. His mouth slips open in an expression of needy bliss, and his cheeks flush rosy pink. Bill watches his eyelids slam shut before fluttering open again, the blue of his eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Oh God.” He moans, his lips shuddering with helpless breaths. 

His body comes down slowly and steadily until the rigid pressure of Bill’s cock thrusts him entirely open and submerges itself in the hot, tight depths of his hole. Their bodies meet with a muted slap that’s quickly drowned out by Holden’s sharp gasp of shock and pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, Bill.” He whines, squirming deliberately against Bill’s cock. 

Bill’s trembling grip on Holden’s hips slides down to find his ass cheeks, kneading the ample flesh in his palm. He tugs Holden closer, jolting another whimper from Holden’s throat.

Holden’s body grips him, stationary, applying divine pressure, while his hole adjusts to the length of girth of Bill’s cock inside him. When he begins to move again, it’s in a cautious rocking motion that creates a friction so wonderful that Bill feels himself already tipping towards the edge. 

“Jesus, fuck.” Bill curses, adjusting his grip on Holden’s backside. 

Holden hums a choked reply. Bracing one hand against Bill’s ribs, he stretches the other over his head, fingers knotting in his hair in a trembling fist as he begins to thrust up and down. His eyes slip shut against the sensation, and his teeth push against his lower lip in an expression of aroused satisfaction. 

Bill’s mouth falls open as he watches Holden’s lithe, toned body writhe on top of him. His back arches and his chest hitches with every thrust, drawing his ribs taut against the wash of flawless, pale skin. His belly quivers, matching the throb of his rock hard cock jutting from between his clamped thighs. 

He looks too good to be true, but Bill can feel every second of heat and friction and need - and this is real, this is not a fantasy. His cock is lodged in Holden’s tight, youthful body, and it’s pushing him towards climax, a powerful release that he’s hungry for down into his bones, that he’s been starving for for so long that he can’t recall the last time sex felt this good. 

Eager for that explosion of need, Bill digs his heels into the mattress to thrust up against Holden’s languid rhythm. He grips Holden’s hips to steady his writhing, and Holden gasps when Bill’s hips smack up against him. 

“Oh, ohh …” Holden gasps, his mouth tripping open in shock at the sudden, powerful thrust. 

Grabbing onto Bill’s wrists, he pries the bruising grip away from his hips, and pushes Bill’s arms up over his head. 

Bill resists for mere seconds before allowing his wrists to go lax beneath Holden’s grip. 

The hungry rutting of their bodies eases until Holden is crouched motionless above him, his chest leaning down to meet the hitched swell of Bill’s ribs. Their faces are inches apart as he slips his fingers along Bill’s palms and between his fingers, lacing their hands together in two lovely shackles above Bill’s head. 

“Fuck, come on, Holden.” Bill mutters, shifting his hips up against the tight grip of Holden’s body. “Don’t stop.”

Holden kisses him slowly without responding, his heavy breaths filtering past his nostrils and across Bill’s cheeks. He can feel Holden’s cock trapped between their bellies, pulsing with need. 

As Holden’s mouth lifts, Bill draws in a shuddering breath. His eyelids slip open to glimpse Holden’s face above him, eyes soft yet seizing in the dim lamplight of the room. 

“Holden-”

“Shh.” Holden murmurs, “I want to remember this moment.”

Bill swallows hard. Reality eclipses his need for a quicksilver moment, and he can see beyond the cresting swell of pleasure in his chest. He can see them on this bed, in this tiny motel off the freeway; he can see Holden’s body on top of him, holding him, nurturing his pleasure, knowing it as well as his own.  _ Too good to be true, in every way.  _

Bill presses his eyes shut, cutting off the image of Holden’s swallowing blue eyes. They’re like the sky, asking him to look up and get lost in them. He is lost; lost and fucked, beyond repair. 

Holden exhales a quiet sigh before shifting back into motion. The warm press of his mouth draws Bill’s eyes open again, and their gazes meet over the mashed bridges of their noses, too close for clarity. 

Bill thrusts up against Holden’s determined pace, quickly finding the grinding rhythm to match. 

Holden straightens, bracing both hands against Bill’s chest while he finds the right angle to pleasure himself from. 

“Oh, fuck …” He whispers, his face twisting with need. “Like that … oh, God, that’s-”

Bill’s own arousal stirs hotter against the shallow yet steady pace, the sensation of his cock rubbing against Holden’s budding prostate. He takes Holden’s swollen cock in a firm grasp, feels it twitch violently against his touch. 

“Oh my God-” Holden gasps, his head tilting back as pleasure sweeps through him.

His throat stretches open, flushing and pulsing with blood and need, a faint trickle of perspiration slithering down into the hollow between his collarbones. His whole body shudders as Bill strokes him, urging him towards climax. He manages a few more trembling thrusts before his body seizes around Bill’s cock. 

Moans tumble from Holden’s stretched open mouth as he comes, his cock spitting release across Bill’s stomach and down his knuckles. His hole clamps around Bill’s cock through the spasms, sending rippling vibrations deep through Bill’s body. 

Bill bites back a groan while he watching Holden’s orgasm unravel, every moan and quiver and grimace of pleasure on display in front of him. He keeps stroking Holden’s dripping cock until he feels the flesh soften and Holden’s body ease its hungry grip around him.

Holden gasps in satisfaction, and leans forward against Bill’s chest with shuddering arms. 

“God, Bill-”

Before he can finish the remark, Bill grabs onto his hips, and rolls them over across the sheets. Holden is underneath of him in moments, his limp, pleasured body splayed against the sheets in flushed disarray. 

Bill grips the underside of his thighs, and pushes his legs up against his chest. Holden’s toes meet with Bill’s chest as Bill seats his cock deep inside again. 

“Oh, fuck!” Holden cries, his hands scrambling across the sheets to brace himself. 

Bill fucks into his spent, sensitized body, channeling the last, clinging bits of his frustration and longing into Holden’s now gaping hole. Their hips meets with resolute smacks powerful enough to cause the bed frame to shake, rousing the ancient squeal of motel bedsprings. 

Holden’s flailing hands clamp onto fistfuls of sheets, barely holding himself steady as Bill ruts into him. His mouth stretches open, half-sobbing in the pleasure of coarse overstimulation. His heels dig into Bill’s shoulders, revolting against every violent thrust until Bill grabs him by the ankles and pushes them towards the ceiling. 

Pinned beneath the hammering thrusts, Holden can do little more than whine and squirm until Bill thrusts himself across the burning edge of need and into the wild spasms of pleasure. His rutting cuts off into staggered jolts, his hips rocking uncontrollably against the squeezing grasp of Holden’s body while release pumps into him. 

Bill gasps in a shuddering breath as the potent grip of orgasm recedes. He pulls out slowly, biting back a whine as he watches fresh come dribble from Holden’s raw, pink hole. He shoots a glance upward to see Holden’s eyelids heavy and drowsy in a post-sex haze, his face pink, his mouth open and panting.  _ Well-fucked looks good on him. Too fucking good.  _

Swallowing back the erotic thought, Bill collapses against the pillows piled at the headboard, and swipes his cigarettes from the night stand. 

Holden lies limply against the sheets for several minutes. The only sound in the room is his fractured breathing, and the scrape of Bill’s lighter bringing flame to life. 

“God, that felt good.” He says, finally. 

Bill takes a hard drag of his cigarette.  _ You like it when it’s hard?  _ He tries to quash the thought, but the next one rises fiercely right after it:  _ You like it when I want to break you?  _ But he doesn’t say either one because he doesn’t want to hear the answer. He doesn’t want to think about how the line of tenderness and violence between them is so thin that it blurs into nothing with every day that passes. 

“We have Kemper tomorrow.” Holden says after Bill doesn’t reply. 

“Mmf.” Bill mutters, “So much for victory.”

Holden glances over at him, his eyes curious. “What does that mean?”

“You said today was a victory.” Bill says, “So, are you going to want to fuck me after tomorrow?” 

Holden purses his lips. A small frown knits his brow, and Bill can tell he’s seriously considering the question. 

“If anything, Kemper makes me want to fuck you more.” Holden says. 

Bill almost chokes on a breath of smoke. “What? Why?”

“Because … He’s there. And I’m with you.” Holden murmurs, “He might think I’m his friend, but you’re … you make me feel like-”

Bill glances away, fighting back the warmth in his chest. He can just pretend he doesn’t know what Holden means. He’s clinging to the idea that this is just casual sex, and he can’t acknowledge that he knows what’s being implied. Love, or caring, or something close to that, something that defies the loneliness and darkness. 

“You don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Holden mutters, releasing a quiet sigh. 

“Maybe.” Bill says, “But I think we’ve said enough for one night.”

Holden drags himself up from the sheets, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Bill peeks past the cloud of cigarette smoke at the muscles lining his back, gleaming a fine sheen of perspiration in the dim light. After a moment, he draws in a deep breath, and gets up from the bed. 

He disappears into the bathroom, and Bill glances at the car commercial playing on the television. The couple in the advertisement look like the happy, picture-perfect ideal of the American dream with two kids in the backseat. Something about the woman’s forced smile reminds him of Nancy. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, shooting a glare at the telephone. It’s nearly an hour later. She must be waiting by the phone for his call. 

Bill glances down at the mess of dried cum and Vaseline in his lap, and swallows hard. He’ll have to get a shower after Holden finishes in the bathroom, but he can’t make her wait any longer. 

Bill puts his boxers back on, and carries the telephone to the table by the window. A vehicle pulls into the parking lot, sweeping the white illumination of headlights past the curtains and across the mussed bed sheets. 

He sinks down to the chair at the table, and takes a deep drag of his cigarette. He plays out the conversation in his head, the words he’ll use to mask the guilt. Then he picks up the receiver, and dials. 

When Holden comes out of the bathroom a minute later, he doesn’t say a word to interrupt Bill’s conversation with his wife. He turns off the lamp, and crawls into bed with his back turned to the window. 

Brian bit someone at school. And Bill really should be more worried about it. He presses sincerity and worry into his tone. He tells Nancy that he loves her. Across the room, Holden doesn’t move, and Bill can tell that he’s still wide awake and listening. 

Bill hangs up the phone as the conversation comes to an end. He smokes into the darkness while regret stirs in his chest. Victory is far behind them, the gap between California and Virginia closed with the sound of Nancy’s voice. Bill thinks about Kemper and his stomach turns; but he doesn’t want to go home. He’s never not wanted to go home so badly in his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!


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